Trio
by Does You No Good
Summary: After over a year of resistance from Kolyat, Thane meets the son of his son. Sequel to Irresponsibilities and Floodgates.


A/N: Sequel to Irresponsibilities and Floodgates. Anons wanted a fic about the three generations of Krios gentlemen and their dysfunctional happenings.

**Trio**

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"This isn't going to be easy." That was an understatement. This was going to be the hardest thing Kolyat had ever done, but it wasn't about him. That wasn't even what he was saying. It didn't need to be spoken aloud: Thane already _knew_ it anyway. But with the two of them sat in front of Vasaed's school, on a bench, a fair way back from the collective of meandering parents at the doors, the void had to be filled with something. He couldn't sit in silence, not right now. "I haven't told him much about you. He doesn't know what to expect, so he'll have thousands of questions. Not that it makes much difference. He never runs out of questions_. Ever_."

"Children are inquisitive. You were much the same."

Kolyat shook his head. "Vasaed asks practical questions. Disarming ones. You won't always be ready to answer."

"I was never prepared for yours."

Why was this irritating him so much? "_I_ only ever asked you why you had to go." He shouldn't be letting his temper, his instinctive reaction to Thane get the better of him. This wasn't about him. This was all for Vasaed. His son needed someone to be there, to care about him if Kolyat couldn't. Even if Thane was dying. They were a _family_: if he had to bite his tongue before he was ready to, race against Thane's advance stage of Kerpal's and chisel away at Vasaed's lack of emotional development, then that's what he'd do. Whatever it took, just so long as Vasaed had someone else – even for a while – who cared. For that, he'd even swallow his pride. "…Sorry. I didn't mean that."

Thane, for his part, seemed to understand what it took for Kolyat to do this. He always just knew. That never made sense. "It was the question you asked most frequently." It was a relief. Thane's unwavering patience was finally something other than unendingly irritating: it was a blessing.

"How do you even do that?" Kolyat blurted before he could stop himself.

"Do what?"

"How are you so patient with me?"

Thane took a moment to consider his response, even as he turned to face his son. His loose skin, his tired eyes and his sickly hue were all the more noticeable close-up. He couldn't be as bad as he looked: he was still able to walk upright, he'd just come back from standing in crossfire with the batarians. He was just tired, that was all. He certainly sounded it, when he spoke up at last. "Consider what you do for your own son. Then ask yourself how I can stand to not do more for you."

Kolyat leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and staring straight ahead without seeing – anything to avoid that look Thane was giving him. He gave a humourless, quiet laugh: an attempt to inject a little more familiar feeling into the atmosphere gathering around them. "Was that a hypothetical question, or do you have an answer?"

"It isn't hypothetical, but I don't think there is an answer. I don't believe I've been enduring it at all."

Kolyat closed his eyes for a moment. Why did he ever think that he could do this? His hands clasped together as though he were praying, tightly enough that his knuckles turned a light green – as light as the weak complexion of his father – as he tried to push down that question, that thought and all the other things that accompanied it. The doors were opening; children were beginning to trickle out of the school. When he looked up, Vasaed was off to the side and looking around – he could just see his son around a turian's bowed legs. Vasaed's little face lit up as soon as he spotted his father, and he began to weave his way through the people, plodding along on his stubby little legs like he was dancing around them all. It brought a smile to Kolyat's face and in the corner of his eye, he knew that Thane saw it as he turned to see what caused it.

The anchorites of Amonkira's temple phrased the edicts differently every time he'd gone to speak with them when he was still living on Kahje. They had always told him to find something to fight for – everything was possible when there was something to fight for. He hadn't believed it when he still lived on the hanar homeworld, but he knew better now. It was the truth, the absolute truth. Everything was possible.

He _would_ manage this.

x

Vasaed had a million questions, as per usual. A million observations. He held them back when Thane was present, but he let them fly when his grandfather stepped out to take a call – Shepard, something about expected time of departure, something else about parts for their ship, Kolyat hadn't been listening very closely. In the apartment, Vasaed went about his usual after-school routine as though everything was commonplace and Kolyat – trying to scrape up a meal for three – welcomed his absolute serenity as a good sign. He wasn't resistant to the situation. That was really the only thing that mattered: that Vasaed didn't mind the change. "You don't look a lot like him."

Kolyat shrugged. This wasn't news. "Drell take after their mothers."

"So that's why I don't look a lot like you?"

"Yeah, but you have my bone structure. I didn't get much from Thane."

Vasaed nodded. "Height, maybe."

"Maybe," Kolyat agreed.

"You asked him to come here?"

"That's right. It was about time that he met you."

"But you don't talk about him."

"I guess not."

Vasaed nodded again and for a moment returned to his schoolwork. The peace was short-lived. "You don't like him."

"I-" He should've expected the question, or rather the declaration, but as it sunk in it threw him completely off-guard. He'd tried explaining why he didn't have much contact with his father, but he'd painted it to seem like Thane was just perpetually absent. He didn't mention in the least what it had done to him, when he'd been Vasaed's age. He knew he hadn't ever lapsed into a memory that even touched on it, not in front of his son. "There's just a gap between us."

"Why?"

"It's hard to explain." But it was clear that he wasn't going to get out of it with that 'explanation' alone. "I…alright. I don't like using her as an example, but it's like how your mother wasn't there often. I still had my mother, so it's not exactly the same situation, but I missed him a lot. My mother missed him too." It'd been her reaction that made his what it was, no matter how much she'd tried to stop him from resenting his own father. She'd _tried_, so hard, to keep from crying in front of him when Thane would go. She did her best to make sure he knew he was loved. The difference between his parents, the state his father would leave his mother in, was all the reason he ever needed to hate Thane. It wasn't all of the reason, but it turned the feeling of abandonment into resentment. "He's been away a lot. It's difficult to talk to him now."

Vasaed thought about that, staring with those big inquisitive eyes but not really seeing as the concept turned over in his head. "If my mother was alive, I wouldn't want to talk to her anymore."

"You don't talk about her now. You know you can, right? If you want to."

"I know. I don't want to." Vasaed shrugged his little shoulders. "You don't talk about your father."

"Yeah…and I should change that. I should've told you about him last year." He really should have, and he regretted not doing it now. It was hard to pin down why. "At the time, though, I don't think I could've told you about him like I can now. I was still angry with him."

"You aren't anymore?"

"…I'm less angry."

"You don't look angry. I've never seen you angry."

"Yeah, I try not to get angry in front of you." Kolyat rubbed the back of his neck. Why was this so uncomfortable? "It's…I have problems with my temper. I don't want to let it go and then wind up lashing out at you. You've never done anything wrong, but I'm not always rational when I'm mad."

Vasaed nodded, comprehending this as best as he could. "It's okay to be mad?"

"Yeah. Yes. Please, don't ever think that it's not okay to feel whatever you're feeling at any point in time, Vasaed. I just want to get to a point that when I'm mad I don't misdirect it. Being angry isn't…I don't know. People feel horrible if you take it out on them. I won't do that to you, I won't make you feel horrible about anything. Feeling like your parents are mad at you is one of the worst feelings in the world."

"It is?"

Kolyat went to open his mouth again and explain, but he stopped. If Vasaed didn't know it, didn't experience that feeling, then Kolyat wasn't going to try to make him understand it. If he didn't know, it was better that way. He'd just make sure that he _never_ felt it, never felt like he was a disappointment or a focal point of regret. "I can't explain it. It doesn't matter anyway. I've never been mad at you for anything, and your mother was never angry with you either. Was she?"

"No…" Vasaed's forehead creased as he glared at nothing, thinking ihard/i. "I don't think she liked me much. She didn't read to me, or walk me home from school. She didn't do anything that you do." Kolyat went to say something, but Vasaed wasn't done. "...It's not just the stuff, is it? The _things_ that she could've done."

Kolyat gave his son a sympathetic smile. This was the one area he struggled with – trying to figure out emotions. "It's the sentiment behind them. The motivation for them."

"Yeah. That." Vasaed nodded enthusiastically, bobbing in his chair with the motion. "Was it like that with your father?"

"No, he was…when he was there so that we could all be a family, he didn't want to be anywhere else. But he wouldn't stay."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"You could ask him."

No he couldn't. The surface-level answer was 'work'. Everything beyond that, though…he couldn't face it. Wasn't ready. More to the point, if Thane's visit was going to be a good one, there was no way to ask without it _festering_ for the rest of the interval. Vasaed's memory of his grandfather would be tinged by that, forever. And what if this was the last visit Thane had left in him? He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to know. So Kolyat just smiled and started fishing around in the cabinets for plates. "Maybe later. How's your homework going?"

x

"It must be challenging."

What _now_? Kolyat frowned to himself and pretended to be engrossed in the data pad in his hands. Maybe if he ignored it, Thane wouldn't keep talking. He didn't seem to get it: he wasn't there because Kolyat wanted to breech any barriers built up between them, this was all for Vasaed. He wasn't prepared to do anything to mend the rifts between them, and the more he felt that Thane was trying the more he shrunk away from it – with hostility or with some feeling of shame that he couldn't put a name to. The only thing Kolyat wanted was for his son to feel like he had a good, happy family – one that extended out a little further than just the two of them. Beyond that, it was all up to Thane: whether or not he'd agree to help him find someone who could, if they both went to the deep, take care of Vasaed. The embittered side of himself said that Thane probably wouldn't even wait to die himself before passing off care, if Kolyat went first, but he knew that was-

Well, it shouldn't be true. It could be, but it shouldn't. Not if Thane was as remorseful as he kept saying and acting like he was. It was difficult to really believe that he'd treat his grandson any differently than he had his own child, but ten years of abandonment _stuck_.

Thane leaned against the walkway to the hall, facing the living area. Kolyat didn't need to look up from his place on the couch to see that he was going to stand there so long as it took to get a reaction – anything – for his cryptic observation. That didn't mean Kolyat would just drop everything, though. He took his leisurely time scrolling through a Newsnet article – how interesting, the Terra Firma party was being charged with harassment and conducting unsanctioned rallies, that wasn't very surprising – before answering. "Do you want to maybe hint what you're talking about?"

He spoke far more quietly than he would have ordinarily, but Vasaed was only just asleep. He wasn't going to be the one who woke the boy up, especially not with yelling. Thankfully, Thane wasn't the kind of raise his voice for any occasion, so there was no threat there either. Even better, he seemed inclined to elaborate. "I meant that it must be challenging to raise Vasaed. He isn't like most children."

Kolyat felt his fingers dig into the scratches and grooves of the data pad, hard enough that the plastic creaked. Cold fury welled up in his chest, pressing his lungs into his ribs and making it difficult to breathe for a moment. "No, he's not like them. He's _smarter_ than most kids."

"I'm not challenging that. He clearly surpasses the average intelligence for his age and his skills of observation are uncommon." Thane paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. Kolyat shook his head, but relaxed his grip on the data pad and tried to relax. It hadn't been a slight, just another poor choice in words delivered to someone who wasn't inclined to hear anything good in what Thane said. _Not_ without reason, he reminded himself. "Vasaed is very reserved, emotionally undeveloped…fragile and susceptible. You said as much yourself when you told me about him in-depth."

He clicked on another article, read the first few lines before he went to reply just to steady himself. "He learns quickly. He's even made friends."

"He's mentioned them." Thane took a moment further to just _stand there_ - Kolyat didn't even try to guess what he was doing or waiting for – before levering himself away from the hallway to sit at the dinner table, just a few short strides from the couch. "He also mentioned not knowing how to make friends until you helped him. He's learned everything about how to interact with others from you."

"So you're wondering why he's not angry at the world?"

"He had a poor beginning. He was removed from it before he could learn what it meant to be embittered."

"Yes, but you just said it. _I'm_ the one teaching him everything. So is that your point? 'Where's the hate'?" Kolyat didn't wait for a reply. He dropped the data pad on the couch, leaned back and rested his arms along the backrest. He knew he was glaring as he looked up at Thane, putting his expression at odds with his relaxed posture. "I don't get mad in front of him. His mother never showed any sort of emotion, she was always detached and off gods-only-know where on her own. I used to think he was depressed, but he genuinely doesn't-"

"That wasn't what I was suggesting."

"Then_ what_?"

"I'm talking about nothing more than what I said, Kolyat. Vasaed is the topic, not the subject. I'm referring to _you_." Thane's brow furrowed, as much as it ever did. It made him look even more tired and drawn in his sickly state. Kolyat's stomach pitched and he couldn't help looking away, but he could still feel Thane holding him in that intense stare. "You've done this alone for over a year. You refused to seek help or advice. All of Vasaed's strides and accomplishments are because of your input. This has been the most difficult thing you have ever done, hasn't it?"

Was he this disarming with everyone? Kolyat didn't want to ask. He didn't want to think too much about the question either. It was exactly that – the most difficult thing he'd ever done. But just saying 'yes' wouldn't get Thane off the subject. Kolyat didn't know what he was looking for, just that there was an honest admission sitting in the back of his throat and now rolling off of his tongue. "I wouldn't change a thing."

"I envy your tenacity."

Kolyat rolled his head back to meet Thane's stare again. "You should be envying the fact that my son's more well-adjusted than yours."

Thane shook his head. "I often worry that you suffered, developmentally, from my lack of input. I wondered constantly if there was something I should have taught you, if I had been around to do so, which would have been crucial in shaping your future." He drew in a long, rattly breath – his lungs laboured to accommodate it, making him sit up properly to ease the strain on them. Kolyat did his best not to wince, to keep his focus steadily on his father. "It used to haunt my waking moments when I was away, but there is something far worse than knowing that I wasn't doing my duty by you as your father. That is this, the realisation of now: knowing that you never needed me."

It took a conscious effort not to yell, scream. Kolyat grit his teeth for a moment to hold it in, clamping down so hard that his lip curled back and his eyes scrunched up. He had to hold that for a second before he could speak in a quiet, level tone – he still wouldn't wake up Vasaed. "I _wanted_ you there. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Yes," Thane admitted. There were tears in his eyes – how had he missed that before? "More than I can say, Kolyat. That makes all the difference."

x

Music was playing. Old music.

It stunned him still the moment he heard it. He could feel the humid air, the warm sunlight filling an open room. Dizzy and delirious, spinning around and around. Thane, younger, smiling down at him, lifting him up and throwing him in the air. Catching him just when he thought he'd fall to the ground. His throat was scratchy from screaming with excitement. Then the sound of the data pad overlaps the music, the spinning stops and he was back on the ground. The moment was for fun had passed. His father needed to work, needed to prepare. He'd be leaving again, very soon. Why did he have to-?

Kolyat bit the inside of his mouth and shocked himself out of his trance-like state. A cursory glance up and down the apartment complex told him that no one was there to have seen, to have heard him lapse into a memory like that. Good. There was one consolation. There was no one to see him rub at his burning eyes, grit his teeth to stop his jaw from shaking. No witnesses.

The music was coming from his apartment.

He rested his head against the door but didn't open it. He could hear voices inside – Thane and Vasaed, equally serious. How was it that he hadn't noticed that before? Thank the gods the hanar hadn't just kept Vasaed secret, that his mother had the barest presence of mind to demand that Kolyat be told when she was dead: they would have trained him to be just like his grandfather. In another lifetime, he'd probably have been ijealous/i. Now the idea, the simple thought of it made him feel vaguely sick.

There was a loud yelp. Vasaed. Protective instinct surged for a moment, but the yelp turned into a cheer just as he opened the doors.

Neither noticed him as he stepped inside. The music was loud enough to cover the sound of the doors closing behind him. Kolyat stood, unnoticed, as the last of the song played out in the living area.

Thane had pushed the dining table back. Or maybe it had been a collaborative effort – it was unimportant either way. In the middle of the room, with a way cleared, Thane had a hold on Vasaed's hands – secure and careful. Vasaed, smiling as broadly as he ever had, was airborne as the two spun around and around and around. Little legs kicked in excitement. Thane was making his grandson's little body rise and fall with momentum in time with the tune that played around them. When the music reached a crescendo, Thane raised his arms and let go of the little hands in his: Vasaed shrieked again, flying in mid-air for half a second, before gravity started to pull him back down again. And Thane was there again. Plucking him right out of the fall and swooping him around again, around and around, decreasing in speed as the final notes played out and Vasaed's feet touched the floor again.

That smile stayed with Vasaed. Thane looked healthier, younger – smiling as much as he ever did, not a cause for concern to be seen in his tired face. It was like looking into the past – _living_ the memory again, instead of seeing and feeling it with that faint and empty feeling, the weight, of reality behind him.

Vasaed plodded away to turn off the music as the next tune started up. Thane sat on the couch – under the much-contested spot that was directly under the warmest lamp in the apartment – and let his grandson go. He watched with a small smile as Vasaed's brow furrowed and he studied the sound system. "Do you need help?"

"I've done it before." Stubby little fingers pushed at the panel. The music skipped a song. Thane's smile broadened just a little as Vasaed's frown deepened. "Wait…"

Thane stood and came to crouch by the panel next to Vasaed. "You've done this before?"

"Once…"

"That's the volume." Thane directed the little fingers away from the left of the control panel. "Kolyat doesn't play music often?"

"No." Vasaed tried again: this time the music changed entirely. It sounded like something the humans played in their Presidium apartments, slow and pretentious. Vasaed scrunched up his nose: he didn't like it.

"Why not?" Thane nudged the little hand closer to the 'mute' button.

"I don't know." Vasaed overshot the mark and shut the whole sound system down, but he took the silence as a triumph and grinned again.

Thane, on the other hand, wasn't smiling. He looked contemplative, at least from the angle that Kolyat could see. "He doesn't talk about me, does he?"

"No."

"But he told you how I used to dance crazy with him, when he was your age."

"He remembered it. I asked what it meant." Trust Vasaed to make it sound as plain as talking about the weather. "He remembers more about his mother. I don't remember anything about mine."

"Does that bother you?"

"No. My best memories are here. I'd rather make more happy memories than think about old ones. There isn't much to remember in the old ones."

Thane was silent, plainly struggling with something. Eventually he put a hand to the top of Vasaed's head – a familiar gesture, one that Kolyat could almost feel himself – before continuing in a scratchy voice. "You're so very much like Kolyat."

Vasaed smiled, broadly and genuinely, just like he had while being swung around and around. Kolyat felt a lump in his throat, welling up from his chest and lodging in his airway. Pride. He had to swallow reflexively to breathe again, and that movement only made him conscious of the tears tracking down his face. Gods help him, he didn't even care when Thane stood and turned, finding him there like that.

x

Vasaed hadn't been to the docks since he first arrived at the Citadel: there wasn't any need for him to go there. He _had_ been to C-Sec once or twice, sitting in the waiting room after school when Kolyat had to take care of something, but he didn't go further beyond that. He wasn't all lost or bewildered, but he was surprised when Thane led them out to the docks and he first saw the Normandy.

The ship was in bad repair and docked for maintenance. Pieces of the hull were being replaced, parts that Kolyat wouldn't be able to recognize if they were thrown at him were being altered from inside, and they were even already starting to touch-up the paint job in places. It was all someone else's business, to Kolyat. He kept his hands tucked in his pockets and focused on making sure his son didn't try to get too close to the maintenance equipment. There wasn't much worry of that. On the dock platform, Vasaed was content with just staring at the hundreds of little things that were being done to put the Normandy back to rights again. Thane found this curious, apparently. "You have an interest in ships?" he asked.

"Not really," Vasaed admitted. "But a lot of things are happening to this one."

"You should've seen what happened to it to get it in this state. The batarians outfit their border patrols with some heavy cannons, let me tell you." Kolyat did his best not to tense up, close his eyes or otherwise let on his exasperation as approaching footsteps accompanied the familiar voice of Commander Shepard. The human grinned broadly at the little family of drell as he clapped Thane on the shoulder. "I didn't know you were bringing them up here. Hey there, Kolyat. Hope you're not still dealing with Elias Kelh-?"

Thane, thank the Gods, interrupted before Shepard could finish. "Vasaed asks many questions about what I do at your direction. It seemed easier to tell him with some form of visual aid."

"Going to take him aboard?"

"That wasn't my intention. You're the only one authorized to-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm pretty sure he's not going to sabotage my ship, Grandpa. He's fine. Vasaed, isn't it? That's a heck of a name, kiddo. I don't even know how you'd write that." Shepard released Thane and crouched to get at about eye-level with Vasaed, still grinning broadly. "You know, I've never met a little drell before. You're not what I was expecting."

Vasaed didn't recognise rudeness and acted primarily on curiosity, which was why it was no surprise that he just angled his head to the side and fixed his big eyes on Commander Shepard. "What were you expecting?"

The Commander waved a hand, his face contorting like he was deep in thought, as he gathered up his explanation. "No legs, a little tail, kind of hyperactive and wriggly…"

Kolyat frowned in abject confusion. What was this? Where was he getting this from? He turned to look at his father for a clue, a hint – Thane was rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed in sheer frustration. It took him a moment, but he provided the answer. "Shepard, I shouldn't need to tell you again that drell are not amphibians. Vasaed is not a tadpole."

Shepard grinned at Thane. "You're sure?"

"Kepral's Syndrome would not be the leading cause of death for drell if we were aquatic."

"God, you're depressing. Take a joke for once."

It was so incredibly uncomfortable and even more insulting that Kolyat didn't know what else to do but pretend to look around. Had to keep a handle on his temper after all, but what else was there to look at? Ah yes, fascinating: the docks. Mm. There wasn't anything to focus on, so instead he looked down at Vasaed. His son had shifted his attention from Shepard to the Normandy again, looking slowly from one end of the ship to the other as he committed every detail to memory. His fascination was distracting enough that Kolyat crouched down beside him and put a hand on his little shoulder to get his attention, or at least some of his attention.

"You've seen a ship before," he noted quietly. "What's so interesting about this one?"

"Hanar ships are bigger. Dozens of humans are supposed to fit on this."

Kolyat smiled a little, even as Shepard continued to try to rile his father – that felt like, sounded like it was way in the distance, but in reality it was only a metre above him and his son. "Humans are a lot more compact than hanar. Less wobbly appendages everywhere." He wriggled his fingers and stuck out his tongue, going cross-eyed. It made Vasaed smile, like it always did when he pulled a ridiculous face or made a silly voice.

"Do all the humans think we're amphibians?"

"I'm pretty sure Shepard knows we're not."

"Then why did he think I'd be a tadpole?"

Shepard caught that. He threw his head back and laughed, slapping Thane on the back. "Well, damned if I know if there's any family resemblance, but he's got your sense of humour." He grinned down at Vasaed, and jerked a thumb back at the Normandy. "C'mon, kid. Come meet and confuse some new people."

x

Vasaed found everything about the Normandy fascinating. The crew of the Normandy found him fascinating, in return. Everyone who hadn't taken shore leave during the maintenance work stopped to accommodate the questions of the tiny, curious child with the gigantic black eyes, and they did it with a smile and accompanying offers to show him how everything worked. They looked to Thane, not to him, for permission to let Vasaed see things closely – stripped wires contained by a field of energy, ammunition shells, everything. Thane's lack of concern and reassurances did little to convince Kolyat that his son wasn't about to get electrocuted. The two of them stood aside by the jammed door in the stripped engineering sector, while a quarian and Vasaed crouched beside an open panel. Kolyat couldn't help wincing every time a spark flew: he visibly jumped when Thane put a hand on his shoulder. "Tali'Zorah knows the hazards of her work. Vasaed is safe."

He knew that, but knowing and subconsciously accepting were two different things. "Look…" he began uneasily, feeling more than a little stupid, "I don't even sit down after work before I've locked up my pistols. This is the most dangerous thing Vasaed's gotten close to."

"He's genuinely inquisitive."

"Oh, come on. You might've only been here for three days, but you know enough about him by now. He could be sitting in front of a dead pyjak right now and he'd still have a thousand questions about it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thane just barely smile. "You're very protective of him."

"As though I'd be anything else."

He hadn't noticed Thane's hand was still on his shoulder until he felt the pressure of a reflexive squeeze. "I understand. It's for that reason that I interfered when I learned you were attempting to follow in my footsteps."

"In hindsight, I really shouldn't have been surprised that you showed up then." And for once, Kolyat realised, he didn't sound bitter about it. He was surprised to realise that, even more so when he felt his next words forming on the tip of his tongue. "…Thank you for that."

The four simple words had a profound effect, internally and externally. Kolyat realised in short order that he _meant_ what he'd said: he was grateful, unendingly so. What would've happened if he'd killed that politician, and then Vasaed had appeared in his life? That was no way to raise a child – he would have had to refuse. He would've spent the last year…doing what? Killing? Running? A combination of both, if he didn't get caught. It was a dazing realization, but it had affected his father even more than it had him. Thane was silent for the longest moment, contemplating him. Staring. It was impossible to tell what was going on behind those fathomless eyes he fixed on Kolyat, but he was moved. The moment stretched on long enough that Kolyat had to wonder if he should say 'haha, joking' just to diffuse it.

He didn't need to. A loud crack came from the open panel: pandemonium broke out as a small fire burned several wires together, the quarian tried to figure out why, and Kolyat tried to explain why Vasaed didn't need to know what 'bosh'tet' meant.

x

It had to end at some point. One morning Thane accompanied Kolyat and Vasaed to the school, hugged his grandson goodbye and then made his way to the docks with his son. The two had numerous opportunities to talk alone throughout the Normandy's maintenance period, throughout the generous shore leave Shepard had issued, but this was different. It was quite possibly a conclusion. Even at the prime of his career, where Thane would spend months absent at a time, there was never the possibility of finality – not really. At that point in time, standing on the docks with not a soul to be seen around them, it wasn't like it had been then. Not even a little. This, both of them recognised, might be the last time they spoke face to face. It had to count for something. It had to say something about…_everything_. Thane, for all his verbosity, couldn't find the words – he struggled with the immensity of the situation. It fell to Kolyat to initiate the goodbye, just as it had fallen to him to initiate this very meeting.

"This is really strange."

"How do you mean that?"

"You're leaving and I don't resent you for it."

"Should I do something to restore your sense of order?"

"I really hope you're joking. If there's something that you're hiding, this is the worst possible time for you to just spring it on me."

"You can relax, Kolyat."

"No I can't. My brain immediately jumped to the worst things it could. Now I'm fighting off this paranoid fear that you're going to tell me you and Shepard are-"

"_No_. By the Gods, no."

"Ha, look at that. You're cringing. I was starting to wonder if you could ever look even mildly uncomfortable and there it is."

"Why did you wait until now to try such a thing?"

"That wasn't me 'trying', Thane. You'll know when I'm trying."

"I suppose I've seen it already. You had to put aside a lot of personal concerns to allow me this opportunity. And don't attempt to suggest this wasn't for me as much as it was Vasaed."

"It wasn't _supposed_ to be. I wasn't trying to mend the gaps."

"I don't consider them mended. But you made the first effort since last year, when I-"

"It wasn't intentional. It just kind of fell into place like that."

"Isn't that good enough to start with?"

"Yeah. If it was left to me, I'd have probably tried to forge contact way too late."

"And I'd be too ashamed to attempt to talk to you until I was being carried off in the tides. As you said, 'way too late'. Even still, I have to admit a feeling of inadequacy, Kolyat."

"Inadequacy? Really? You're being serious. Why?"

"The maintenance of contact between a parent and child shouldn't be left to the child."

"Yeah, well…I have a good motivation to overthrow that convention."

"That you do. You're doing an exceptional job raising your son. I…it shames me that I had so little to do with imparting those skills to you, but I still feel an inexplicable pride to see how well you've done."

"…You know, for the longest time, that's all I ever wanted. To make you proud."

"And now?"

"I'll never admit a thing, no matter how long I'm interrogated. I'm just more worried about being a parent that Vasaed would be proud of."

"I only wish I could have been that parent for you."

"I don't know. You should see how many people I have to arrest who fill their pants when they hear the name 'Krios'. That's not my legend at work – I don't even ihave/i one."

"Not yet."

"Don't deflect the compliment. It's the best I'm going to do for now, so take it. And stop grinning at me like that."

"You're smiling too."

"Yeah, but I have the decency to be ashamed for the both of us. This isn't a resolution."

"It's a start. That's better than I had hoped we would ever achieve with the time left. For that alone, I'm eternally grateful."

"Yeah, to Vasaed. Oh yeah, and _thanks_for getting him that Blasto toy. You knew that thing didn't have a volume control. I got woke up three times last night-"

"How better to enjoy being a grandparent than to overindulge the grandchild?"

Neither said goodbye, because it felt too final – they'd never said goodbye. Kolyat just stuck his hands in his uniform's pockets and watch as Thane walked back to the Normandy. At a certain distance, it was as though Thane were as healthy as ever. For a moment it didn't feel like this would be the last time they saw each other and, despite himself, Kolyat clung to that warm feeling as he watched the locks disengage from the Normandy.

It wasn't goodbye.


End file.
